Living between Valbonne and Arundel amongst the idle rich

Hotel rooms all look the same…

From 23 degrees to 3 degrees in four hours was the unwelcome difference in temperature from sunny Tenerife to foggy Gatwick. I can already feel the tan beginning to fade.

It has been a nice week away, but I am jaded. I must be getting old, but not old enough for a bus pass according to regular reader and this columns most prolific limericist, the Reverend Jeff, who, being far older than I, is in a position to know these things.

There was one last potentially embarrassing moment before we left. I had gone for my normal 4 mile walk, leaving That Nice Lady Decorator to pack. When I returned, she was not in the room, which was being serviced by the maid. I explained that I needed a shower and could she delay her activities for a few moments. I was a bit miffed that The Packing Operative had packed the shampoo, and curious as to where she had gone. I had not noticed the hair curlers before and subconsciously made a point of asking her about them. She had also packed the hairbrush which was very annoying. Then, coming out of the shower I noticed a computer on the table which was not mine. I was in the wrong room! I quickly grabbed my clothing and left, finding her waiting patiently in the correct room a few doors down the corridor. She found the whole thing very amusing but it could have been quite catastrophic. What would have happened if the inhabitants of the room had returned whilst I was in their shower? Especially if she was young and blonde and gorgeous (although given the average age of the hotel guests, it was more likely to be a granny). Anyway, I escaped unscathed and am determined to look at the room numbers more closely in the future.

Last sunset in Tenerife

The first of two back to back diet days now, to try to make up for the excesses of the last week, and build up some stamina for the coming weekend, is actually something that I would be dreading normally, but actually I am sort of looking forward to not having a drink. We will have a house full this coming weekend with both Sprogs threatening to turn up for their dear old dads birthday celebration, and several old pals flying in from France and elsewhere to rub my nose in it. It will all start unravelling on Friday evening when the advance party arrives. I have even considered wearing my kilt on Saturday evening, just to give the girls a thrill. They all want to know whether anything is worn beneath it, and some of the more adventurous may be persuaded to try to find out. I do hope so. I was tempted to say something about their expecting a big shock, but sadly the shock, if shock there be, will be quite small.

Today though, it is back to my desk and the never-ending crusade to save people using from using banks for foreign exchange transactions. You must know by now that Currencies Direct gave a much better solution. There is also the planning for MIDEM, the annual music business junket in Cannes at the end of January. I need to book the restaurants for the 4 days I shall be there. Oh, and some meetings I suppose. It will be my 33rd MIDEM I think, and is always a chance to catch up with some old friends from the music business, which has now largely disappeared in the form that I knew and loved. Cd’s, cassettes, even vinyl have largely disappeared to be replaced by digital delivery of music, still a dark art, to codgers like me.